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by nelayn



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 09:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18133904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelayn/pseuds/nelayn
Summary: Galadriel gets to Valinor and finds her daughter has prepared a surprise for her. And also that there are more people for her to see again than she expected.





	Home

They've built a house for her, in the forest where she used to walk in her youth. For a while, her daughter tells her, until you know what you wish to do. She knows Celebrian must have had a hand in this, because it looks so much like home it makes her heart ache. Home. Lothlorien. This is home, she corrects herself. This was home first.

It is not a talan, it is built on solid ground, but it feels the same. It is embraced by the trees, and the woodwork it seamless, as if it has been grown out of them. Green and golden and silver leaves are framing the windows.

Yet she can see others' hands here,too. Loving hands. In the little details, here and there. Her father's hand in the delicate carvings around the windows and the door. She remembers of a little swan he had made her out of a piece of sea-worn wood she had picked at the beach that she used to carry around with her all the time, in a time so long ago she has half forgotten it. Wind chimes made of seashells, just like the ones that used to hang in their home in Alqualonde, the ones her mother said sang Uinen's songs.

There's a creek runnning nearby, and a fountain stands just at the back of the house, wrought delicately out of marble, that she swears looks exactly the same as the ones in Eregion that Celebrian used to play in when she was little.

Above the door, her own sigil stands next to that of her father’s house, and her mother’s, and her husband’s. Seeing Celeborn’s own crest on this house across the sea, this home of hers that he has never seen, feels strange. But it also feels right. Because he is a part of her, and even if he is not here yet, she has brought that part of him with her. Her mind still searches for his own without thinking, even though it has been quite a long time since they were close enough to feel each other. But she still feels connected to him, in away the distance and the bend of the world cannot break. She’s not sure why, but she feels that he is going to love this place. These are not the woods of Doriath, or Lothlorien, but she feels that she can make a home here, for a while, while she finds herself again, and she will not feel so alone. And when he comes, because he will eventually come, she knows that, she will show him this house their daughter made for them, and he will see that her forests are not so different from his.

She's overwhelmed. Tears are welling in her eyes, and her daughter just holds her hand tightly. But it is not all. Celebrian leads her gently back inside, to a room that looks east, and her breath is caught in her throat. Deep green leaves are running around the walls, and purple flowers, carved in the wood and wrought in silver and gold and set with innumerable tiny jewels. But it is not the the jewels she marvels at, nor the craftsmanship. She remembers this. From a lifetime ago, before the seas where sundered and Beleriand was changed, when the Sun was still young. She remembers admiring flowers like this, bright and living, more beautiful than any jewel, growing on the walls of her quarters in Menegroth, feeding on the dew and the sunlight. There were no such flowers outside the Girdle, but Finrod, to please her, had the wall of her rooms in his palace in Nargothrond decorated like this, with flowers made of silver and gold and jewels, made with the incomparable artistry of the dwarves. A gift for her, on the day she first visited Nargothrond. She remembers her brother, eager to show her everything, to share the wonders of his new home with her.

"It is not Menegroth" she hears him say. "But it is beautiful"

She could not help but agree. It was beautiful.

She knows she has been standing there for a long time, facing the wall, mesmerised, lost in her memories of caves and palaces long gone, and of her brothers' smiling faces. She does not understand. Where did this come from? None here have ever seen this.

When her thoughts wander back to the present, she realises Celebrian is no longer standing there. And also that she is not alone.

She knows it is him before she turns. She wonders why she didn't realise right away. Of course he's here. Why shouldn't he be? It's been such a long time. But still, she can't move. She's frozen in place, her heart is racing. She wants to turn, and face him, but her hands are shaking, and she's crying. She feels his hand on her shoulder.

"Welcome home, sister"

She turns around, and she falls into his arms, sobbing, and suddenly she's a little girl again, running into her brother's embrace to escape from all the scary dreams. But these are tears of happiness. They're both crying now. And they're both laughing. He picks her up, and swirls her around, and she cries out laughing.

"How I've missed you"

"How I've missed you"

They walk up to the house in Alqualonde hand in hand, following the path they used to race along when Galadriel was little, and her mother looks out of her window at them and smiles.


End file.
